There’s an intersection along the Atlanta Highway that I encounter every workday. It doesn’t offer me a love shack with a rusted tin roof like the song suggests but it provides me with an array of scenes to take in.
There’s the row of train stop buildings that remind me of an old western town. The open lot with a homes and businesses nearby. The dressed up small town signs guiding visitors. And, my favorite, a bakery that emits the tempting smell of doughy freshness if you hit the red light at just the right time of day.
That’s about all I like about that red light. It is my nemesis. Always shining the color of fire down on me. Even if it was just green for a second, as soon as I get within crossing distance – RED. It’s really fine though. I find more humor than frustration in it. After all, I have quite a few other sights to enjoy along my drive to and from work.
- Inspiration: the older woman I see jogging along the busy stretch of road every other day.
- Hilarity with an added ew-factor: the sign in front of a house promising, “Rooster livers for sale.”
- Hints from the past: aged farm houses with wide windows meant to take in the view.
- What a view: the passing, thundering trains that I “race” on any given day. Being that they don’t interfere with my commute (I don’t have to cross the tracks), I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing them. They take me away from my thoughts for the moment, as I let my mind decide what the trains must be carrying, where they are going, what does that graffiti say?
Oh, and what do you know? Turns out there is a love shack (of sorts) at the end of one of my drives. Home.
Are You Zhazha? 
Have something to share?